How To Catch An American
by after-midnightmunchies
Summary: Arthur's got a plan to ask Alfred to the Valentine's Dance - slip a love note into his locker. Classic! But when a mix-up leaves him dateless, in swoop the BTT to save the day... hopefully! (For USUK Sweethearts Week Day #4 on Tumblr)


**Monday**

"So, _Anglais_, have you worked up the courage to ask our _cher Américain imbecile_ to the Valentine's Dance this weekend?" Francis teased, leaning against the locker adjacent to Arthur's.

Arthur rolled his eyes, exchanging his world history textbook for his English one. "I hardly see how any of that is your business, frog," he spat, slamming the locker shut to punctuate the statement.

Francis smirked in response. "Never play poker, Arthur, you show your hand way too easily."

Arthur huffed and stomped off in the direction of the subject of their argument's locker. Francis raised a brow at this and followed him.

Upon reaching Locker 1776, Arthur retrieved a small envelope from his notebook, sealing it with a star-shaped sticker. He closed his eyes and clutched it tightly to his chest before slipping it up the vent at the top of the locker door.

"There!" He spun to face Francis, a triumphant expression across his slightly-freckled face. "In your face, snail-sucker!"

Instead of admitting defeat, like Arthur assumed he would, the French teen burst into a fit of laughter, pressing a hand to the locker to steady himself.

Confused and slightly enraged, the Briton forcefully grabbed a fistful of the other's collar. Had he been taller, the action probably would've been more intimidating. "What's so funny, Francis?"

Francis wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye, training baby blue eyes on the threatening Englishman. "Oh, nothing, Arthur… it's simply that you put your love note in the wrong locker."

Arthur's blood ran cold. _The wrong locker?_ "That can't be true! He told me himself that his locker number is the same year as the beginning of the American Revolutionary War!"

Francis resisted the urge to drop to his knees in a fit of chuckles. "This irony is killing me, _Anglais_! After Alfred, you should be the first to know that the _Declaration of Independence_ was signed in 1776. The war actually began a year before that!"

Panic tore through Arthur's mind. It had been hell working up the courage to even write the letter, let alone deliver it! Why hadn't he thought to at least confirm that he had the right locker?

"W-Who has this locker?" he asked, uncertain that he wanted the answer.

Francis paused, tapping his chin in thought. "I believe this is Kiku's locker… I think Alfred told me that he was locker neighbors with him."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, color returning to his features. Kiku was his student council vice president, and he had confided in him on more than one occasion. Surely the Japanese teen would understand the mix-up.

Just then, the warning bell rang, indicating their last class of the day. Arthur groaned, marching in the direction of the appropriate room. Francis trailed after him, lost in thought.

They entered the room and took their seats, the final bell ringing. Their teacher, not one to waste precious class time, immediately launched into his lesson. As he droned on, Francis's eyes lit up in an apparent _eureka!_ moment. He poked Arthur's shoulder eagerly, unable to contain his excitement.

Arthur swatted at his hand, sporting an annoyed frown. "What do you want?" he hissed, looking up from his notes.

Francis's face could've split under the smile that he sported. "I know _exactly_ how you should ask _vous savez qui_ to the dance!"

Arthur's frown deepened. "I'm not interested in any sort of romantic advice _you _have to offer." He turned back to his notes, attempting to catch up with the class's conversation.

Pouting, Francis scribbled his idea onto a slip of paper, (he hadn't been taking notes, anyway), and tossed it onto Arthur's desk discretely.

Arthur feigned disinterest, snorting as he picked it up and examined it. His vibrant green eyes scanned the note, expression unreadable. Finally, he scribbled something beneath the neat writing and slid the note back.

'_Do you really think it will work?'_ Francis smirked at the nonverbal surrender.

'_I am positive! I am the one who got Mathieu and Gilbert together two years ago,'_ the response read. Arthur sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He was entrusting the fate of his love life to his mortal enemy.

* * *

"What are these two doing here?" Arthur crossed his arms, glaring at the other two occupants of Francis's house.

"What, suddenly we're not allowed to chill at our friend's house?" Gilbert snorted from his reclined position on the couch. Antonio looked up from the phone in his lap and nodded in agreement.

"Not when we have business to discuss!" Arthur countered. His eyes widened when he realized what he'd said, and he slapped his palm to his face in annoyance.

Three distinct giggles echoed about the room at the Brit's expense. Francis was the first to calm down, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Don't worry, _Angleterre,_ I invited them over. We will need their help."

"Yeah," Antonio called, "so don't be so mean, _Arturo._" His phone suddenly vibrated multiple times. The Spaniard glanced down, grassy green eyes widening. "Oops, I think Lovi is mad at me, again!"

"Kesesesese~ You asked him to wear a dress to the dance, didn't you, _trottel,_" Gilbert laughed, trying to snatch the phone from Antonio's hands.

Antonio raised a brow, glancing from the phone to his friend in confusion. "Was that wrong?"

Arthur turned to Francis with an unimpressed look. "Do we _really_ need these two?"

Francis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be harder than I thought. Gil, Toni, stop trying to ruin the relationships that you are lucky to be in."

Gilbert turned to Francis, mouth agape. "Excuse me? What did I do? I have been nothing but awesome to _mein_ little birdie!"

"That's not what he told me today…" Francis murmured conspiratorially. Gilbert leaped up dramatically from his spot in indignation.

"Oi! Enough about _your_ problems! I'm not here to listen to you all complain about the perfectly good relationships you are already in!" Arthur shouted, fists clenched. Honestly, those two were so dense! How could they take their partners for granted so easily? Arthur would give anything to be able to call Alfred F. Jones his.

"He's right, _mes amis,_" Francis cut in, flicking both of his best friends' ears. "We are men on a mission! A mission to finally get Arthur into Alfred's pants!"

Arthur blanched. "I-I wouldn't say that! More like, get him to be my date to the dance on Saturday."

Gilbert and Antonio both laughed aloud at that, clutched their stomachs and rolling around in their seats.

"Yeah, right!" Gilbert snickered.

"_Arturo,_ everyone knows that you've wanted Alfred since freshman year!" Antonio supplied.

"Everyone but Alfred himself, that is," Gilbert agreed.

Arthur bit his lip, face pink with embarrassment. "Would you three just bloody help me, already?"

"_Oui!_" Francis clapped his hands. "By Friday, you will have that _bête Américain _asking _you_ out."

* * *

**Tuesday**

"Do I really have to wear this stuff?" Arthur whined, tugging at the black skinny jeans he wore. His blond hair was tucked under a shaggy black wig, and he wore a black leather jacket over a dark grey muscle shirt. Dark grey combat boots completed the ensemble.

"Of course you do, now sit still, I have to finish your makeup!" Francis ordered, dabbing a light coat over Arthur's freckles. Antonio hovered just over him, applying grey eyeliner, ("black eyeliner would make you look like death, which is not what we're aiming for," he had said).

Arthur groaned, trying to relax under their ministrations. He repeated a mental mantra: "survive this, and Alfred is yours."

Gilbert suddenly burst into the bathroom twirling a set of car keys around his finger. "The awesome me has arrived!" he announced, throwing his hands up.

"You're late. Did you text him?" Francis inquired, picking up a lip pencil.

"_Ja, ja, _don't get your francy pants in a knot!" Gilbert dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand. "He said that he'll meet me in the parking lot before class."

Arthur furrowed his brows. "For what?"

"Stop moving your face! Do you want me to mess your eyes up?" Antonio wailed.

Arthur huffed and crossed his arms. "Just hurry up!"

* * *

Alfred sat on the hood of his truck, working on some late English homework. _'Damn, where's Artie when you need him?'_ He glanced at his brother, who laid beside him waiting for his boyfriend.

"Hey, Mattie, did you do the-"

Matthew cracked an eye open and held his hand up. "Save your breath, Al. I'm not letting you copy my homework." He pulled out his phone and a pair of earbuds, slipping them in and returning to his reclined position.

"Some help you are," Alfred grunted, rolling his eyes. He checked his watch. '_Where's Gil? He told me that he had a surprise for me…'_

A loud horn brought him out of his thoughts. He watched as Gilbert's Prussian Blue Audi, (God knows where he got the money for it), drove into the parking lot. He pulled into his spot, directly beside Alfred's red Chevy. As the windows were rolled up, the American swore he heard a familiar voice lecturing the driver about speed limits and road safety.

He felt the truck shift slightly as Matthew sat up fully, stretching his arms above his head and releasing a yawn.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting long!" Gilbert chuckled, slamming his door shut and sauntering over to the pair of twins. He greeted Matthew with a peck on the cheek.

"What's the surprise, Gil? Please tell me ya did my English homework for me?" Alfred glanced down at the complex assignment on his lap, sighing and putting it away for the moment.

Gilbert smirked. "I don't have your homework, but I did bring you someone who can do it."

Alfred raised a brow as another door shut and a figure shuffled out from the shadow of the car. His royal blue eyes scanned the new arrival, trying to place his identity. He opened his mouth to ask, when the person looked up at him with lime green eyes.

"A-Artie?" he stuttered, jaw hanging in disbelief. "What the hell did they do to you?"

Arthur stood, silent, eyeing Gilbert for help. The other teen smirked, gesturing to the Englishman as if he was a prize. "Doesn't he look awesome? I mean, he's obviously not as awesome as me, but he's pretty damn close, don't you think?"

"Way to be modest, Gil," Matthew deadpanned, sliding off of the hood to retrieve his bag from the trunk.

Arthur turned his gaze on Alfred, eyes hopeful through long, dark lashes. "What _do_ you think?"

Alfred felt sweat bead along the back of his neck. _'Shit, what do I say? I hate it, but I don't want to be discouraging.'_

Arthur seemed to take his silence as a negative answer, hanging his head and moving to leave.

Alfred panicked. "Wait! Artie, you don't have to go!"

"Well I don't want to be late for class!" the Brit snapped, spinning on his heel and storming into the building.

Matthew shook his head. "That was really smooth, bro. Why don't you just ask him, already?"

Alfred sighed, slipping off of the truck and grabbing his own bag. "Because I know he'll reject me," he stated sorrowfully, shouldering his bag and walking inside.

Matthew crossed his arms and turned to his boyfriend. "So, what's the plan?"

Gilbert's scarlet eyes widened and he raised his hands in surrender. "Damn, you're good."

Matthew rolled his eyes and gave Gilbert a brief kiss. "I know, it's why you love me. Now spill!"

* * *

"Arthur-kun, this is a new look for you," Kiku observed. He remained seated to Arthur's right despite the student council meeting having adjourned five minutes ago. The other members had already dismissed themselves, so it was the perfect time for the two of them to discuss personal matters.

"I know," Arthur grumbled, rubbing his temples. While he didn't mind that it was Kiku who had asked this time, it was still the forty-seventh time that his new attire had been addressed. Half of his teachers had even gone out of their way to ask if he was doing alright or if he was potentially depressed. "What is it about these clothes that makes people think 'depression,' or 'moody,' or 'weird'? What if I'm just trying a new style?"

"With all due respect, Arthur-kun, this does not seem like something that you would spontaneously decide to try. Would you like to tell me what brought this on?" Kiku set his papers aside and leaned an elbow on the table, directing his full attention on the English teen.

Arthur smiled and relaxed, launching into the tale of how he became the dress-up doll of the 'Bad Friends Trio.' Hearing it himself, he realized how blindly he had followed them, but, for some odd reason, he couldn't help but have faith in the bizarre tactics that they had.

"… They're my only shot, Kiku," he finished with a wistful sigh.

Kiku had listened intently, and had to stop himself several times from interrupting to yell at Arthur for his ignorance. For one of the smartest students in school, the Briton was not the most observant.

"Well that explains the note that I found in my locker," Kiku smiled at his friend, who blushed in recollection of his mistake. "Arthur-kun, I understand your decision, but how does this lead to Alfred-kun asking you to the dance?"

Arthur paused. "You know, Kiku, they did not really tell me, come to think of it."

The door to the student council room was suddenly thrust open, three figures posing at the doorway.

"Charlie's Angels? Really, you three?" Arthur rolled his eyes as Francis entered, lifting him out of his chair and slinging him over one shoulder.

"Wow, _Anglais,_ you're lighter than I thought!" he chuckled, nodding his head to Kiku before running out, the other two on his tail.

Kiku exhaled as the room fell silent. "This would be so much easier if those two weren't so oblivious!"

* * *

**Wednesday**

"So today, we're trying a totally different tactic," Francis announced, throwing Arthur into the closet with a bundle of clothes. It was conveniently dark to avoid Arthur's immediate rejection of the costume.

"I am going to regret this one, aren't I?" Arthur groaned, slipping into the long-sleeved dress shirt. He felt a sweater vest and raised a questioning brow, slipping it on, anyway. This seemed somewhat similar to his usual style when going out. A pair of slacks slid up over his boxers, and he secured them with a belt.

Stepping out of the closet, he moved for the bathroom, but was restrained to a chair instead.

"What are you doing?" he shrieked, struggling against the German that held him down. "Gilbert, let me go!"

"You are not allowed to look until we're finished," Antonio stated, handing him a small box. Arthur slipped the cover off to reveal a pair of colored contacts.

"Yesterday, we changed your hair. Today, we're changing your eyes," Francis explained, sliding a pair of shoes onto his feet.

Antonio went to work styling his hair, while Gilbert brought him a hand mirror so he could apply the contacts. Francis stood after tying his shoes and fastened a clip-on bowtie around his neck. When the trio released him, Arthur sprung into the bathroom.

"What the bloody hell did you do to me?" he cried. He was dressed in a pink shirt with a purple sweater vest and light blue bowtie. The contacts had pink and blue swirls that made him seem otherworldly.

"I have to change! I am not going to school like this!" he shouted, stomping back toward the closet.

"No time!" Antonio announced, scooping him up and carrying him to his car. "School starts in _quince minutos_, and it takes at least _diez_ to get there!"

* * *

It was only lunch, but Arthur had already had enough of the weird looks and concerned inquiries. He didn't stand out yesterday as much as he did today, that was for certain.

"_Arturo!_ Over here!" Antonio called, waving at him from a small table in the cafeteria.

Arthur picked up his tray and moved to sit opposite the Spaniard and his boyfriend. Upon hearing him sit, Lovino glanced up from his phone, nearly choking when he took in the other's appearance.

"Geez, _Artù_, I think you're a decent guy and all, but what the hell are you wearing? You look like you got puked on by a fucking unicorn!" He burst into a fit of giggles at that.

"Lovi, that's not nice!" Antonio reprimanded, shooting Arthur an apologetic look.

Lovino shrugged in response, picking up a grape tomato and popping it into his mouth. "Why is the walking rainbow sitting with us, anyway?" He quickly turned to Arthur, offering a short, "no offense."

"Because, Lovi, Alfred is coming to sit with us, too!" Antonio stated cheerfully.

Before Arthur or Lovino could react to the news, Alfred plopped down beside them. "Hey Toni, Lovi, Artie-"

Sapphire eyes met cotton candy contacts. A red cloud bloomed across Arthur's cheeks, and he scrambled to put some distance between them.

"Uh… What's with the outfit, Art?" Alfred inquired, trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was even wearing something like that.

'_Looks like this outfit was a bust, too,'_ Arthur frowned. He quickly excused himself from the table and scurried away.

"What's with him?" Alfred asked, taking a bite of his burger.

"Ugh, will you two just fuck each other, already? I'm sick and tired of this sexual tension!" Lovino complained, crossing his arms and glaring at the American.

Alfred swallowed hard. "What?"

"You heard me," Lovino asserted, rolling his eyes. "Can you two really be _that_ oblivious?"

Seeing that Lovino was hardly getting through to Alfred, and knowing that his boyfriend was rearing to leap over the table and strangle their friend, Antonio stood abruptly and took Lovino's hand. "Oh, I just remembered! I have something for you in my car, Lovi! Come with me, let's go!"

As the Spaniard dragged the cursing Italian away, Alfred sat, repeating Lovino's words in his head. _'Can you two really be _that_ oblivious?'_

* * *

**Thursday**

"Why did you call me here so early, today?" Arthur whined, stifling a yawn. They had a full hour and a half before the first bell, and Arthur was used to getting at least another hour.

"I called you because we'll need a lot of time for today's outfit, even with the three of us working on you," Francis replied cryptically.

"I'm tired of these bloody costumes! They're not working!" Arthur complained, not even struggling as Francis tugged him toward his room.

"On the contrary, _mon ami,_ they are doing a better job than you think," Francis assured. He pulled a bag out of his closet and handed it to the English teen.

"Maybe I'd be able to tell if you just let me in on the plan," he mumbled, rummaging through the contents of the plastic bag. "Oh, hell no."

"Oh, _Anglais_, you must! We're so close! Just one more day, I promise!"

"I am not wearing a bloody dress to school!" Arthur screeched, stamping his foot down.

"Fine then, don't wear the dress," the French teen relented, pulling another article of clothing out of the closet. "Just wear this skirt!"

"What have I done to deserve this?" he shouted at the ceiling. Turning back to Francis, he took a deep breath. "Do I have to wear it all day?"

"Yes," Francis declared. "If you don't it will completely throw off the delicate balance of what we've been working toward. You wouldn't want to have all of your suffering go to waste, would you?"

Francis had him there. Arthur pouted in surrender, accepting the skirt and blouse and trudging into the bathroom. When he emerged, Gilbert and Antonio were waiting for him outside, armed with a camera.

"Holy shit!" Gilbert shouted in surprise. "You actually make a really hot _frau_!"

"Gil, don't drip blood on my carpet!" Francis scolded, handing the German a tissue. He carried another bag into the bathroom, pulling Arthur back in with him. The other two took this as their cue to follow, locking the door behind them.

"Alright, now you'll be wearing another wig," Francis announced, handing a bundle of synthetic hair to Gilbert.

The German unfurled the wig and brushed it before arranging it over Arthur's natural hair. The wig itself was blonde, about the same shade as Arthur's, and consisted of two long ponytails that dangled along each side and ran down to his hips. A clip held the bangs out of his face.

Antonio applied light makeup to his face, but with more feminine touches than the last time. Soft peach shadow and light gray liner framed his eyes, pink blush was dabbed onto his cheeks, and a touch of red gloss was applied to his lips.

Francis worked on shaving his legs. He gently removed the thick blond hairs that stood out, careful to avoid nicking the delicate skin or leave red marks.

They all finished at about the same time, stepping back to admire their work. Gilbert whistled, Antonio clapped, and Francis fought back tears.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm beautiful," Arthur grumbled, tugging at the skirt that just barely concealed his boxers. "You couldn't find a skirt with more fabric?"

Francis shrugged, picking up his phone. "Perfect! We have twenty minutes to get to school!" He raced to his closet, pulling out a pair of short-heeled wedges. "Now, put these on and try to walk in them."

Arthur gave him a skeptical look, but followed the orders, almost immediately falling over as he stood. Antonio offered him a hand as he awkwardly marched around the room.

"Yeah, that's a bit of a turn-off," Gilbert muttered.

Arthur shot him an indignant look. "I'd like to see you walk in these death traps! Why do women subject themselves to this?"

Francis checked his phone again, eyes widening. "_Merde_! We have ten minutes left already? We have to go, now!"

They rushed into their cars, Arthur struggling to catch up. "Oi, I could use a hand here!"

Gilbert groaned, turning back and hoisting Arthur into his arms. "No, I don't want to ride with you, again! Anyone else! Please, anyone else!"

* * *

The final bell rang, releasing Arthur from his day of torment. From the catcalls in the hallways to the confusion of using the restroom to his aching feet, it was safe to say that he had a new respect for the female population.

Francis followed him to his locker, texting someone on his phone. He'd been on his phone for the past twenty minutes, forgoing class time to talk to whoever was on the other end.

"Who are you talking to?" Arthur finally asked, sliding the books that he needed for homework into his bag.

"You will see in about five seconds," Francis responded, taking a step back.

Anxiety snaked its way into Arthur's stomach, and it was further fueled by the appearance of a certain American.

"Francis! What happened to Arthur? Is he alright?" Alfred looked frantic.

"Bloody hell," Arthur groaned, slamming his locker door shut and revealing himself to his crush.

Alfred's youthful face broke into a blush. "A-Artie? Is-Is that you?"

Arthur pouted, crossing his arms and glaring at Francis. "Unfortunately."

"Why? What's with all of the getups this week?" Alfred demanded.

Arthur sighed, hanging his head and moving to leave. "I don't want to talk about it."

Angered, Alfred slammed his hand into the lockers in front of Arthur, cutting off his escape. "No! No more running! I want the truth, Arthur! Why are you doing this?"

The Briton's mouth hung open, his mind blank. He certainly hadn't expected this kind of reaction. "Why do you care?" he finally choked out, trying to maneuver past the large athlete in his path.

"What kind of question is that?" Alfred asked, voice softening. "Of course I care! I've always cared!"

Arthur's eyes hardened. "Then why didn't you just ask me?"

The question caught Alfred off guard, allowing Arthur to slip past him and make a run for the parking lot.

Francis lingered behind the American, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I think it's time we have a serious conversation, _oui?"_

* * *

**Friday**

"Nothing special today," Francis announced. "This is, after all, the day that I promised would come! He's definitely going to ask you today, so I want you dressed like _you_."

Arthur sighed, the argument from the day before still playing through his mind. "How can you be so sure? You were there yesterday! I brought it up and he still looked confused!"

Francis sighed, rubbing soothing circles onto Arthur's back. "Trust me, _mon ami_."

Antonio peeked his head in, Gilbert following suit. Ensuring that it was okay, they cautiously approached, taking a seat around the English teen.

"He's right, _Arturo_, just trust him!" Antonio assured. "He had a similarly strange plan to get me and Lovi together, and that worked!"

Gilbert snorted. "I'd hardly call luring him into your bed with a trail of tomatoes a 'plan,' Toni. But he did hook me up with Mattie in an even stranger way."

"Oh, please! It wasn't stranger than your method of slathering maple syrup all over yourself in a hockey uniform while riding a moose! Where the hell did you even get a moose?"

Arthur rolled his eyes at their antics. "Whatever, let's just get through this day."

* * *

It was pretty obvious that everyone was relieved to see Arthur back in his normal attire. Looking back on the week, he could see how his clothing had raised alarm bells. He sat back in his last class, absentmindedly doodling on his paper as the music department delivered musical valentines.

Francis sat down, having received his fifth candy bag, and placed one on Arthur's desk. "There, don't say I never gave you anything," he winked.

Arthur rolled his eyes, tossing the bag back onto the pile on the French teen's desk. "No thank you, my parents raised me to never take candy from frogs."

Despite the insult, Francis smiled, glad that the other was back to his bantering self. He assumed that the costumes and the stress of the week had really thrown the Briton out of proportion.

"Okay, that's all of the valentines that we have for this class," the head of the group, Feliciano, announced. He pouted along with the groaning crowd.

All of a sudden, the door was thrown open. "Wait, I have one more!" a voice declared.

Alfred marched into the room, an acoustic guitar strapped to his back. He held up a candy bag and offered a sheepish grin. "I've got a special valentine for Arthur Kirkland!"

As was required, Arthur was to sit on a stool at the front of the room. He stood on shaky legs, a blush darkening his cheeks.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, taking his seat.

"The song will explain it all," Alfred shushed him. He cracked his knuckles, strummed each string to ensure that it was in tune, closed his eyes, and finally launched into song.

"What would I do without your smart mouth

Drawing me in, and you kicking me out

You got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down

What's going on in that beautiful mind

I'm on your magical mystery ride

And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright…"

He chanced a glance at Arthur, finding the other fixated on the lyrics flowing from his mouth. A hand covered his mouth, and he looked close to tears. He continued to sing, eyes locked on the target of his affections.

"My head's underwater

But I'm breathing fine

You're crazy and I'm out of my mind…"

Arthur jumped in, singing the chorus along with Alfred:

"'Cause all of me

Loves all of you

Love your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Give your all to me

I'll give my all to you

You're my end and my beginning

Even when I lose I'm winning

Cause I give you all of me

And you give me all of you, oh~"

Alfred's guitar strumming faded, and he slung the instrument over his back, getting down on one knee and presenting a rose.

"Arthur, I know that I'm an idiot for not asking before, and that it's probably too late now, but I'll never be able to live with myself knowing that I didn't at least ask." He paused to clear his throat. "Artie, will you go to the Valentine's Dance with me?"

Arthur couldn't open his mouth without letting out an embarrassing noise, so he settled for a nod. The classroom, teacher and musicians included, erupted into applause and exclamations of "finally!" Alfred pulled Arthur into a hug, which was eagerly returned.

* * *

**Saturday/Omake**

There was no shortage of congratulations toward the newly established couple; it was like they had already gotten engaged.

Alfred had picked Arthur up in his truck, both looking dapper in their rented suits. Alfred's mother had attempted to style his hair back, leaving just his cowlick visible rather than his bangs. He'd apologized for the "silliness of his hair," but Arthur had simply run his fingers through it, assuring him that it was "lovely."

Alfred had been mildly worried that Arthur would decide to show up in another costume, but relaxed once Arthur had bashfully explained that the outfits were all part of Francis &amp; Co.'s plot to set them up together. In return, Alfred revealed that it was Francis who ultimately gave him the pep talk needed to finally ask him, as well as the idea for the proposal.

"What I don't understand, though, was the point of the whole thing. Why the outfits? Why the entire week?" Arthur muttered as they swayed together on the dancefloor.

Alfred grunted in agreement, then spotted a wandering blond head through the crowd. "Why don't we go ask _him_?" Arthur followed his line of sight and nodded.

The two caught up to the French teen cracking jokes with the other members of his trio and their dates. They all rolled their eyes when the couple arrived.

"Oh, look, it's the happy couple," Matthew teased, eliciting laughter from the rest of the group.

"Thank you, peanut gallery," Arthur commented, sparking some snickers of his own. "Francis, we have a question for you."

The teen in question glanced up from his glass of punch, raising a brow. "Ohonhon~ if it's about what to do tonight, might I suggest-"

"It's definitely not about that," Alfred cut in. "I'm well aware of how that works." Gilbert and Antonio high-fived him for that response.

"We want to know what the purpose of the past week was. Why did you make me wear such dramatic outfits? Why not just tell us what we were missing?"

Francis gave the couple a genuine smile. "The point was to make Alfred realize how much he loves you_._ Call it a test, if you want. The purpose was to show both Alfred and you how in love with _you_ he is, not a variation of you. Of course, it would have helped if Alfred had been more expressive than just staring blankly at you."

The others murmured various agreements before splitting off to either dance or sit down. Alfred and Arthur stood together, contemplating what the French teen had just revealed.

"Was he telling the truth?" Arthur asked, wanting to hear the reassurance from the source.

Alfred smiled goofily. "Well, duh! Sure, you were attractive in all of those other looks, but they weren't _you,_ Artie. They weren't the British teen that I fell in love with three years ago."

"Wait a minute, you've been in love with me all this time, too?" Arthur thought back to the hints that their friends had been dropping. "Wow, we really are idiots, aren't we?"

Alfred chuckled, taking Arthur's hand and bringing it to his lips. "Yeah, but we're idiots for each other." He leaned in and caught Arthur's lips in a kiss, pulling the shorter blond close.

Arthur broke the unexpected kiss, panting for air. "Damn, I've dreamed about doing that for so long!" he whispered breathlessly.

Alfred hummed in agreement, trailing his lips up to Arthur's ear and grazing his teeth along its curve. "How about we get out of here, then?"

* * *

A/N: Woo! Day 4, out of the way! I should probably stop posting these so close to the deadline, but oh well...

Anyway, a longer piece today with more characters! I literally spent all day on this between nursing my sick little brother and driving practice, so I'm too tired to put translations in now. If you really need them, leave a comment and I'll add them in later.

Okay, tomorrow's prompt is movies, so until then, hasta la pasta~!


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